


Do You Believe in Miracles?

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 19:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10905648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Drabble request from anonymous – “Could you please do an imagine where the reader is pregnant with twins (boy and girl) and Castiel is happy yet worried cause the babies are Nephilim.” Well, this one went in a bit of an interesting direction. Fluff, descriptions of child birth (nothing super intense), perhaps ever-so-slightly angsty in the middle, and then even more fluff, cause fluff.





	Do You Believe in Miracles?

“She’s an angel.” Castiel stared awestruck at the sticky squirming pink newborn held in his trembling arms.

“Yeah man, she’s beautiful,” Dean agreed, squeezing his friend on the shoulder before aiding in the angel’s awkward attempt to swaddle his infant daughter. Dean grimaced at the total ineptitude of Cas’ swaddling ability, gently prying the baby out of his fumbling arms to wrap her securely, “No offense, but she’s lucky she got her mother’s looks.”

“No Dean,” Cas corrected, shaking his head, tone disbelieving, “I mean she’s an actual angel.”

“You mean?” Dean’s jaw slackened askance.

“She’s not a Nephilim.” The wash of joy and relief flooding Cas’ expression was short-lived, drowned out by your renewed screams in the adjoining room.

“Cas!” Sam’s urgently rumbling shout pierced the walls.

A simple nod from Dean assured Cas that his daughter would be watched over. Dean cradled her as Cas hurried from the room, cooing quietly, rocking to and fro on bowed legs to soothe her fussing - and though he would never admit to it if asked, to also calm himself.

Cas exchanged a nervous glance with Sam as he rushed to your side.

At your behest, the younger Winchester brother had learned everything he could in the past few weeks about the birthing process – what to expect, what to do when things didn’t go exactly as expected, focusing heavily on the latter subject. Your life, the lives of your babies, and the love of your life, Castiel, would be at risk at a hospital, exposed, outside the relative safety of the bunker. Of course, risks existed within the bunker too, in the guise of Sam’s good intentions and inexperience. But the fortress of the bunker meant Cas would be protected from his Nephilim-scorning kin, and all that mattered to you was his safety. After all, one of you needed to survive to protect and raise your children, and though you and Cas didn’t talk about it, you knew no woman had ever survived giving birth to a Nephilim, never mind twins.

“Y/N, I’m here,” Cas clutched at your clammy palm, raising your knuckles tenderly to his lips, reaching out to sweep the sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“Is she, is she-” you peered through bleary eyes, able only to discern a sea of concerned blue at the end of your limply outstretched limb.

“She’s perfect,” Cas reassured, “just like her mother.”

A weak smile traced your mouth, “Really perfect?”

“Y-yes,” the angel’s gravelly voice cracked at the sight of your suffering as another contraction seized your body.

“Y/N, you need to push with the next contraction,” Sam soothingly rubbed your knees.

“I can’t,” you groaned through clenched teeth, head weakly lolling back, gasping sharply for breath as the contraction ended.

Sam shot Cas an imploring look.

Cas readjusted his position to sit on the bed beside you, winding an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up.

“I can’t,” you murmured, apologetic, burying your head into his neck, tears brimming your eyes.

“Together then,” Cas extended his fingers to lightly rest on the swell of your belly, grace surging to bolster your waning strength.

Feeling the next contraction build, you gripped at his arm, funneling the last of your fading vigor into a final desperate push.

Sam guided your blue-skinned shuddering baby boy into the artificial light of the bunker’s windowless cold-tiled and concreted world, unpracticed fingers deft with memorized skill as they grappled to quickly clear his airway.

Cas eased your slumped figure back onto the bed. “Y/N? Y/N!” his voice rose tremulous as you lay unresponsive. Cupping your cheeks in his rough broad hands, he bent over you, lips quivering against yours in a tender kiss as angelic tears sprinkled your pallid eyelids. Pressing his forehead to yours, he reached out to your soul in silent prayer, _Y/N, please. Please don’t go. I can’t do this without you. I love you. We need you._

Plaintive strong cries erupted in the heavy silence.

Your mouth parted suddenly to suck in a rush of air, the flush of life again aglow in your complexion as you tangled your fingers in Cas’ dark hair.

“Cas, a little help?” Sam beamed proudly, settling the wet and wriggling babe in the crook of your arm and indicating Cas should do the honors of cutting the umbilical cord.

The angel obliged. Holding out a shaking finger to soothe his son, the newborn wrapped minuscule fingers around the calloused digit. Cas’ watery blue eyes went wide.

“Everyone good?” Gruff with choked worry, Dean lingered in the doorway.

Sam glanced between you and Cas for the answer.

“All healthy,” the angel cracked a rare smile.

“And very happy,” you added, mirroring Cas’ smile and beckoning Dean over with a wave.

You regarded your angel questioningly, noting a curious mix of relief and understanding glazing his aspect.

“And human,” Cas met your searching gaze, gesturing toward your son with his scruffy chin.

“Did you say human?” Sam quirked an eyebrow, a half smile alighting his mouth.

“Guess that makes them fraternal and not identical twins then, huh?” Dean grinned knowingly.

“What are you talking about?” You glanced up at Dean, snuggling your daughter to your chest as he handed over the expertly swaddled infant.

“Cas didn’t tell you?” Dean’s glittering green eyes flitted to his friend.

You followed Dean’s gaze, “Tell me what?”

“Our daughter,” the smile on Cas’ lips shifted a smidgen wider, “is an angel.”

Your eyes narrowed, clouded in confusion, “But-”

“Our son,” Cas continued, “is a human.”

“But-” Sam echoed your response.

“Neither is a Nephilim,” Cas clarified, taking your hand in his own, “Y/N, they won’t be hunted. It’s why I never heard any talk about your pregnancy amongst my kin. It’s not because Heaven was intentionally hiding information from me as we suspected. It’s because our babies were never a threat, never in any danger. Y/N, they’re safe.”

“But how?” Sam finally managed to spit out the question on each of your minds.

“Call it a miracle,” Cas radiated joy as his thumb brushed the freely flowing relieved tears streaking shining lines down your cheeks, “I’d say we were due for one or two of those right about now, wouldn’t you?”

Sniffling, you nodded, leaning into Cas’ warm touch, all the unease and worry about the future that burdened your soul these past months dissipating. You peered down at the tiny miracles of love perched in your arms – a delicate-featured ball of blue-eyed grace curled up observantly on one side and a naked pouting dark-haired soul writhing impatiently on the other. You, and Cas, and the Winchesters would nurture these children together; and even now, only minutes old, a part of you knew that together this human and this angel would continue your inseparable legacy of friendship and family.


End file.
